


Unreachable

by Orcux



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orcux/pseuds/Orcux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryoma was one of the unreachable players Mizuki hadn't expected to lure on his team. But he tried anyway, because trying hard was what he was best at. Mizuki x Ryoma</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unreachable

Echizen Ryoma, Mizuki figured, was someone that St Rudolph really had to get on their team.

Those lean muscles, not too bulky to restrict movement, but strong enough to withstand the weight of powerful shots … that elegant form… and that unlimited potential still untapped within him…! Mizuki wanted him on their team so badly!

He stood right outside the tennis courts, his eyes set on his target.

The tennis prodigy outdid every one of his peers, and completed each task he was given with ease. It was truly outstanding. Mizuki watched as he sprung up and returned the balls towards the colored cones with pinpoint accuracy. Rather than looking stressed out like the other players, he looked carefree as he swung his racket, not missing a step as he twirled. Yes, this was definitely a quality of player that St Rudolph needed in its team.

Mizuki cornered Ryoma after practice, sauntering over to him with a smug confidence that only he could pull off. The other regulars sent him wary glances, but none of them spoke up, instead choosing to discuss softly amongst themselves. They were probably deciding on whether to chase him out or not- the prickling feeling down his spine and the sharp, azure eyes locked onto him, observing his every movement told him that s _omeone_  [voted](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9310588/1/Unreachable) for the former, but he continued anyway, head lifted high as he proceeds to walk past them without any form of greeting.

He had come for only one person today, and he would succeed, no matter what it took.

Ryoma seemed to have finally noticed his presence, for he straightened up slightly from putting his tennis rackets into his sports bag, his stunning golden orbs catching the sun for a moment as they looked straight into his eyes. Then, without any sign of acknowledgement, he bent down again and continued to fiddle with his bag, seemingly unconcerned with the sudden appearance of the St Rudolph [manager](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9310588/1/Unreachable).

Mizuki was unfazed- he'd known way beforehand that Ryoma was never the most sociable of all tennis players, least of all human beings. His social level was probably just slightly above Tezuka, the Man of Stone, as he had jotted down ever so eloquently into his handy notebook which he kept around him for these occasions. No, it did not resemble Inui's in the slightest, and if the brand marking the front cover of the notebook was the same, it was mere coincidence, nothing more.

Instead, Mizuki stood right before Ryoma, positioning himself strategically so that his target had no choice but to look at him. And so Ryoma did, turning slowly around to look at him with an emotionless expression on his face even as he fingered the strap on his bag, the irritable movement revealing his annoyance.

"You're in the way."

The first words out of Ryoma's mouth were as such, and although they were anything but polite, Mizuki could feel the beginnings of a smile tickle the sides of his cheeks.

"Echizen-kun," he greeted, ever-so-politely, before he cut straight to the chase. "Don't you believe that you have a better future awaiting you in St Rudolph?"

Mizuki's lines were well-rehearsed, and they escaped his lips smoothly without any form of stutter or stammer. It was standard businessman talk, the ones used to lure their prey into large, indecent deals with little or no pay-offs.

Naturally though, Ryoma was not fooled, and instead fixed him with a blank stare. "Who are you?"

... Or perhaps he had simply forgotten him, and Mizuki felt a strange stab of hurt as his smile twitched painfully and struggled to remain on his face.

"Oh, how mean, Echizen-kun..." Mizuki tried to make it sound like he meant it. And he did, because the annoying feeling was growing, seizing a part of his brain and bending it to its will easily. "Surely you couldn't have forgotten Yuuta-kun as well?"

Ryoma stared back at him, his expression contemplating. Finally, a glimpse of recognition entered his eyes, and he raised his head slightly, meeting Mizuki's eyes dead on. A small smirk lifted his lips.

"Ah... You're the one that Fuji-senpai crushed." He said it rather matter-of-factly, his tone suggesting that it had taken much memory-work to remember such a minor character in his life, particularly one who had lost to a regular on the team.

Mizuki couldn't help but feel slightly offended by this dismissal. Taking a step forward so that he could look down at Ryoma, he gave a slightly strained smile as he struggled to keep his composure and dignity intact. The aforementioned lost had been completely humiliating for him, no doubt, but he had trained both himself and the team under gruelling conditions, and it showed, for they were improving; slowly, but it was a start.

"Echizen-kun, let's have a match." Mizuki startled himself by being the first to voice out a challenge to the other teen. Ryoma blinked ,clearly not expecting that reply. But he was never one to turn down a challenge, and Mizuki knew that, for after a pause, he nodded.

Suddenly, Ryoma seemed to realize that everyone in the team was staring at them, murmuring amongst themselves softly, and a small flush appeared on his cheeks. For a moment, he stared back at them awkwardly, before he turned away, his hand brushing Mizuki's lightly as he gestured for him to follow.

Mizuki followed him, feeling the glares of all the regulars drive into the back of his head. He sped up involuntarily.

* * *

They found themselves in the middle of a street tennis court, the railways stretching right above them, the clanging of iron against steel rattling in their ears.

"If I win," Mizuki tells him, "I'm taking you back to St Rudolph with me."

Ryoma doesn't reply, but he smirks confidently, as if such a thing could never happen. It's slightly demeaning, but Mizuki takes no notice and concentrates on the ball.

The swish of the ball hitting the back of the fence beside him resounds almost painfully, ringing in his ears as the almost invisible trajectory burned itself in his retinas. Ryoma called out, the wind carrying his voice towards Mizuki, the rustling of the leaves, a light swoosh.

"15-0."

He found himself kneeling, palms stretched out on the rough grainy texture of court, the nodules of dirt digging into his palm. His eyes are wide as he drinks in the raw, bitter taste of defeat.

6-0. Probably not one of his most memorable matches.

Ryoma gazed at him from afar, his shoulders shaking slightly from the exertion of the last smash he had ended the game with. He panted softly, the excitement of a match still shining in his eyes.

Mizuki's eyes were blank, unseeing.

Out of all the losses he'd had thus far, this was by far one of the worst he'd experienced. He'd gone into the match expecting to win- or perhaps lose by only a few points. After all he'd been observing Ryoma thoroughly for the past two weeks, and was pretty much confident in knowing every single trait and quirk in Ryoma's playing style. But as soon as Ryoma sprang into action, the data he had gathered crumbled in his hands like the dust that was quickly swept away by the speeding train.

He was completely powerless against the overwhelming force that was Ryoma.

A soft laughter barely reaches Mizuki as he gazes at the floor, too humiliated to look up, and he braces himself for scathing words from the victor.

But the next words he hears are completely unexpected.

"Come back anytime."

Slowly, he sweeps the dirt from his knees, and tries to muster a dignified smile, but it doesn't work out but he doesn't mind, for there's a weird, fluttering feeling in his chest as the three simple words resound in his mind over and over again.

"I will."

* * *

It becomes something of a routine, a regular occurrence, and it was no longer an unusual sight to see Mizuki stepping into the Seigaku tennis court during practice to challenge him to a game (Tezuka expressed his unending support by making them run laps later, but it was all worth it), and Yuuta sometimes took the liberty to tag along observe his older brother at practice, his eyes sparkling in grudging amazement.

But no matter how well prepared Mizuki was, he found himself being crushed over and over again, for with every step he took forward, Ryoma was always a step ahead.

Mizuki didn't know when his feelings started to change; it was probably the time where they had one of their matches, and Ryoma had reached out, closing the distance over the net to clasp his hand. There was a tingle of electricity where they made contact; a comforting warmth when Ryoma squeezed his hand gently.

_Good game._

The silent message came across, and Mizuki smiled contentedly, his usual snide comments nowhere in sight. It was no time to get depressed— he would improve, and he  _would_  bring Ryoma back to St Rudolph with him.

And the feelings of possessiveness grew stronger, a crashing wave of emotions that startled even himself as he struggled to keep his priorities in check. Was he bringing Ryoma back to St Rudolph for the team, or for himself? He didn't really know anymore.

What he did know, was that these new emotions inside him were overflowing, threatening to spill over.

* * *

The chirping sounds around him stopped abruptly, the soft beating of wings resounding, a fleeting sensation of feathers against his cheek, before it was gone, and Mizuki opened his eyes, his vision blurring slightly, unaccustomed to the light.

Where was he…?

" _Mizuki-senpai."_

A warm sensation touched his cheek, and his eyes widened. Ryoma stood in front of him, golden eyes peering at him curiously. A spark of electricity tingled pleasantly at the place on his cheek where Ryoma's fingers touched briefly, and Mizuki unconsciously leant in, the warmth radiating through him like warm, velvet sunshine.

His eyes threatened to flutter close once more, the tendrils of sleep still invading his mind. Still, a small thought nagged at his mind persistently, keeping him half awake. If he remembered correctly, as vaguely and disorientated as his mind was feeling at the moment, he had been re-reading his notes on Echizen Ryoma. How was it that he managed to lose every single time, when he had this much data on the Seigaku rookie?

Wrist angle, ball movement, flexibility of his limbs, quickness of his one-footed Split Step, agility, body mass, softness of his brilliant, emerald locks (here, he began to feel slightly off) and of course, pupil diameter…

Pupil diameter?

Amused, golden orbs flickered back to look at him when they had been gazing at something near him for the past minute. Mizuki's hand shifted slightly and bumped against it, causing a light ruffling sound, sounding very much like the thin, worn-out pages of…

_His notebooks_! Mizuki jolted and sat up straight, instantly gathering his precious notebooks up into his arms. His notebooks, which were about the adorable Seigaku rookie in front of him, and even consisted of charts and diagrams to illustrate each point… he could only pray that Ryoma hadn't seen anything yet. After his third notebook of the rookie, when he had discovered his uncomfortable feelings for the other, the diagrams had become less of mathematical calculations, and more of the scribblings of a pubescent teenager.

"E-Echizen-kun, what are you doing here?" Mizuki tried for a smile, which didn't turn out very convincingly, his will was shaken by the thought that Ryoma might have seen such an embarrassing side of him.

Ryoma shrugged, holding his red tennis racket up, rolling a tennis ball on its surface without even looking at it. "I was looking for you, Mizuki-senpai."

_Looking for him?_

Mizuki's stomach jolted nervously. "W-Why?"

Ryoma looked at him strangely, tilting his head to the side, as if Mizuki's question had caught him off guard. "Well… I wanted to have a match." His eyes flickered back to the notebooks that Mizuki were holding protectively in his arms, a confused expression on his face, and Mizuki ignored the desire to curl up, away from Ryoma's innocent, questioning eyes.

Ryoma had seen them. He had definitely seen them, and he didn't even know how to face Ryoma now... Mizuki settled for fixing his gaze on the ground, and the silence stretched out between them, long and awkward.

Then Ryoma spoke up softly, sounding slightly hesitant. "Mizuki-senpai, are all of those notebooks about me?"

Mizuki froze up, his shoulders stiffening as he continued to stare at the ground, trying to conceal his rapidly pounding heartbeat. He continued to remain silent, not knowing what to say. Either way, Ryoma probably thought he was a creepy stalker now, and their matches, their exciting long matches of endurance and stamina, playing in the street courts, his feet feeling like lead but his chest feeling as light as ever as he returned the ball back to Ryoma's side of the court, the satisfying impact of the ball on his racket… all that would be gone.

Finally, continuing to avert his gaze, Mizuki mumbled a soft affirmation under his breath. "…Yes."

There was a pause, before Ryoma laughed, a soft melodic laughter which made his ears tingle pleasantly. "That's even more than Inui-senpai has."

"Eh…?" A small, questioning sound escaped from his lips, and Mizuki's gaze shot up to look at Ryoma, his eyes wide in surprise. He wasn't being… hated…?

A small, slightly amazed smile crept on Mizuki's lips and he held up his tennis racket, which he'd left beside him on the bench before he had started reading. "Care for a match, Echizen-kun?"

* * *

Mizuki and Ryoma's movements were almost in sync as they played in the nearby court. It was one of the most grueling matches Mizuki had ever had... but with a strange new determination fluttering in his chest, he resolved not to back down from the challenge.

Ryoma was watching him intently, racket gripped in his hand tightly, a strange expression on his face.

Deuce. The ball bounced past Ryoma, sending a splash of dust up into their air, and their scores were evenly matched. Just two more points... For Mizuki and for Ryoma.

"Mizuki-senpai," Ryoma spoke up suddenly, his eyes unreadable, as he fidgeted with the strings on his racket. Mizuki paused, his grip loosening around the tennis ball momentarily as his gaze was drawn back to Ryoma.

"What is it... Echizen-kun?" He questioned, curiosity lacing his voice. Ryoma wasn't the talkative sort- especially not during a match, so what could had brought this on?

Ryoma hesitated visibly, fidgeting slightly, his fingers tracing indecipherable patterns on the surface of his tennis racket. "Why did you have so many notebooks compiled with my information?"

The inevitable question at the worst time. Mizuki's hand fumbled slightly, before he caught himself, straightening himself up. "...Because... I was interested in you."

He served the ball smoothly, but Ryoma shifted slightly, following the ball's trajectory with his eyes as it bounced part him. Mizuki frowned, confused. Did Ryoma just let him score...?

"Mizuki-senpai."

Just one more to go.

"Why do you want me in St Rudolph so badly?"

This time, Mizuki barely hesitated, throwing the ball up as he watched it sail in the air, a gentle lob, and the words naturally escaped his lips, the feelings he had discovered for Ryoma through their numerous encounters and matches.

"Because I like you."

The ball thudded, almost silently past Ryoma, who stared at him, his golden eyes wide with surprise, his arms limp at his side. And slowly, he smiled softly, a small flush decorating his cheeks lightly. His next words, nearly lost in the sudden gust of wind, caught Mizuki off guard.

"I like you too, Mizuki-senpai."

Mizuki stood still, his expression mirroring that of Ryoma's a moment ago. A small thought nagged at his mind, telling him that he probably looked really stupid right now, because only Ryoma could pull off a look like that and still look adorable, but he didn't care, because his mind was whirling with a cacophony of thoughts that overlapped and clashed against each other, fighting for dominance in his mind.  
 _  
He likes me..._

_I won the match!_

_...So he'll come back to St Rudolph with me...?_

He didn't care if his mind was jumping to conclusions, if he wasn't able to think clearly.

"Mizuki-senpai."

Before he knew it, Ryoma was standing in front of him, light golden orbs meeting his surprised gaze with an intensity that stole Mizuki's breath away.

Ryoma drew closer, close enough to make his heart jolt, their lips were but a mere breadth's width apart. "Echizen-kun... What are you..." Mizuki breathed, overwhelmed by their exceedingly close proximity.

Ryoma's smiled softly, his eyes shining slightly. "St Rudolph doesn't seem like such a bad place to be in after all."

Their lips touched hesitantly, awkwardly, but the kiss was sweet and chaste, and Mizuki's heart felt like it would burst out of his chest, euphoria filling him up with an indescribable joy.

Maybe his efforts hadnt been for naught after all.


End file.
